


Drought

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21644140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Tuvok requires sustenance.
Relationships: Kathryn Janeway/Tuvok (Star Trek)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	Drought

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Being called to the captain’s ready room is hardly unusual for Tuvok, being her former first officer, the current second officer, and her chief of security. Beyond that, they’re close enough for him to admit that they share a personal relationship—an old, deep friendship. He walks into her office with his head held high, as proud to serve her as always. 

The doors slide shut behind him, and he approaches her desk, where she pauses her work on her console to glance up at him. He knows instantly that she doesn’t have pleasant news to relay—her pink lips are fixed in a frown. He observes the tension evident in her handsome features and notes the curious glimmer in her blue eyes. She tells him in her usual gravelly drawl, “I just read a report from the Doctor regarding your latest physical.”

Instantly, Tuvok knows what’s wrong. He successfully subdues any reaction. He informs her, “I am perfectly healthy, Captain.”

She lifts one arched brow and counters, “Not according to the Doctor. He believes synthesized blood just isn’t cutting it anymore. Apparently, you require _real_ blood to function at your full potential.”

Technically, synthesized material is _real_. But she isn’t wrong. On Vulcan, synthesized compounds are only used in emergencies. It’s much preferred to feed on the monks that practice such services—matured Vulcans who understand the cycle of Vulcan life and can withstand the difficulties of a bite. There is no one on Voyager that fits that. Therefore, synthesized blood will have to do. 

Kathryn must know that, but Tuvok reminds her anyway, “We are too far from the Federation to rendezvous with Vulcan donors. This is the way it must be.”

“I don’t accept that,” Kathryn bluntly counters, as she’s so wont to do—he’s never known her to take the easy route. She asks, “Must it be _Vulcan_ blood?”

Tuvok’s frown deepens. It _should_ be. No other species should bear such a burden. They technically _could_ —human blood, though iron-based, has been proven acceptable. He doesn’t tell her that. He says, “I will not task a member of this crew with that responsibility.”

“Ensign Vorik must have.” That’s news to Tuvok. He lifts one brow. Kathryn smoothly tells him, “According to the Doctor, he’s perfectly fine. I imagine he must have worked something out with a friend. ...You have friends here too, Tuvok. Any one of which would be happy to help you.” She doesn’t say it directly, but he can see the invitation on her face— _she’s offering herself to him_ , ready to satiate his hunger.

But Kathryn couldn’t possibly understand the true depth of his thirst. It rages in him, not solely for nourishment, but _lusting_ , wanting, craving—he looks at her and he sees temptation beyond any imagining. He’s long admired her, but the respect runs deeper, and somewhere along the line, in the trenches of his starvation, that’s twisted into a feral desperation that he doesn’t dare unleash. He’s weakened enough from so long without a true donor that it takes a genuine bout of Vulcan discipline to deny her. 

He tells her clearly, plainly, “No.”

Kathryn takes a deep breath. He watches it flow through her, her chest rising with the movement, her lips parting as she releases it. She leans across her desk, tilting forward, and commands, “Tell me who you want, Commander. That’s an order.”

That isn’t fair. She knows Tuvok can’t deny her. He’ll never disobey her. He’s forced to answer, “You.”

Kathryn leans back in her chair. He waits for the judgment to flicker through her eyes, but it doesn’t. Instead, her lips turn up at the corners. Her smile is constrained but evident. She softly replies, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Then her fingers lift to her collar, and she begins unfastening it—a tantalizing display that makes his fangs ache in his mouth. He quickly says, “Not now.” Kathryn lifts her brow. He tries to explain, “Not while I am on duty, Captain. It would be... difficult... for me to return to my station so soon after feeding.”

Blessedly, she doesn’t ask why. She just lowers her hands again and agrees, “Alright. Report to my quarters when alpha shift ends.”

Tuvok nods his agreement. She nods back, dismissing him.

He conveys, “Thank you,” and leaves before Kathryn Janeway can become any more irresistible than she already is.


End file.
